


Roll 20 to Bark

by TheForestUnderQuarantine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Kosmo - Freeform, M/M, Monsters & Mana (Voltron), Pike - Freeform, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Rivalry, Romelle is the DM, Thunderstorm Darkness - Freeform, dnd, thunderpike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForestUnderQuarantine/pseuds/TheForestUnderQuarantine
Summary: This was their mistake. Not watching the surroundings, they did not see the creature of darkness lurking in the shadows, drawn on by the promise of a delicious pasta feast after the Flumph massacre. Glowing yellow eyes watched the pair closely, before the shifter beast struck.“KOSMO!”---A game of Monsters & Mana goes awry when Kosmo decides to get in on the action. Will Thunder be able to save Pike?-Written for Rolling20 Zine
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Roll 20 to Bark

“Don’t flick that back at me,” Pike glowered at the ranger holding an overhanging branch back. He couldn’t let the man know he trusted him not to.

Thunderstorm Darkness pretended to release it but held it firm as the cat-man thief grumbled past.

They’d split up into teams in order to cover as much ground through the narrow passages and paths as possible. Potentially helpful items for the anticipated upcoming boss battle with Lord Wimbledon were scattered throughout the terrain, so ‘let’s split up gang’ had made sense.

At the time. He regretted it the moment Thunder had looked back at him and indicated that they should take the left path. Alone? With Thunder? He’d rather face a pack of rampaging yelmors with no earmuffs!

“You’ve been quiet today,” Thunderstorm said, looking up at the tree-line. He smiled when he saw some sparrows bouncing from branch to branch.

“Oh. So I’m a loud-mouth, huh?”

“What, no—well, maybe a little. But I didn’t say I didn’t like it. You talking a lot. I’m concerned that you’re not okay when you’re not.”

“Well I’m just FINE thank you very much,” Pike said, throwing a knife which skewered a snake through the head that was rushing at them across the path. It dropped its items: two health potions, which the thief and ranger eagerly looted.

Thunder guzzled it down, a green line of liquid dribbling down his chin in its haste. With a satisfied ‘pop’ he smacked his lips and wiped away the residue.

Pike stared at him, aghast. “Did you even have low health? You should have saved that.”

“I took some hit-points in my last campaign. I’d rather be at full-health if we came upon anything bad. Besides,” he kicked at the ground, looking forlorn and like a brooding 18th century romantic hero, “if you didn’t eat or drink when you could at the orphanage, you didn’t get anything at all. Too many mouths to feed. Why aren’t you drinking yours?”

“I prefer to save mine for when I really need it. Can just sleep my current hit-p—injuries off.”

The ranger smiled with amusement. “You really are a hoarder, heh?”

Pike bristled. He pocketed his potion and stormed off.

“Hey, I’m the one who is supposed to be moody and stormy here, you’re taking my character,” Thunder joked lightly as he ran after him. “Honestly Pike. What’s wrong? I’ve clearly done something to upset you. Please, talk to me. We’re supposed to be a team.”

Thunder turned on him. “A good team-mate shouldn’t mock another team-mates way of being.”

“Is … is this about the pebbles?”

Pike gasped, aghast. “Pebbles? They were stones! Glossy and polished to perfection. In catto culture, we collect them as signs of cunning, bounty and beauty, given our first one as we leave the kitteh nest as a reminder of home and love. They are received and shown only as a sign of utmost love and family, and then in courting when we are older. And you told me to throw them out when I let you see them.”

“They were taking up a full slot in your items list. You chose them over an Arcadian Longsword.”

“They’re important to me,” he sniffed, primly.

“Pike,” Thunder entreated, hands grasping Pike’s own. They both gasped at the action, at the feeling of the ranger’s warm calloused hands over his own. “I’m sorry, okay? I only criticised out of care. I wanted you to have more space available for armour and weapons, practical things. You’re my best friend in this world. We bonded like no other. It makes no sense to me that you’re so upset about rocks when we were getting on so well for so long. Remember when you showed me how fast you could climb that tree? And then I showed you how fast I could take out an evil randy jumping gnome? Or that time we annoyed Jiro,” he choked up, thinking of his dearly departed surrogate father-slash-brother, lost to a stampede of killer rabbits. He tugged Pike into a hug, rocking them both back-and-forth. “By sledding with that rare level 40 black diamond shield down that hill, your arms around my waist, your fluffy ear flicking against my cheek as we yelled in delight. Breaking that unfixable shield was so worth it. I—you make me have fun. Let go. There wasn’t much space for that when I was at the academy.”

Pike tsked, his ear flicking. His stiff posture had steadily relaxed the further Thunderstorm had gotten into his monologue. “Takes a rogue to get a stiff like you to let go, huh?” the thief smirked.

“Perhaps,” he gave a shy smile back.

Pike bristled and pushed himself back. “You still don’t get it though, do you. Why I’m pissed.”

“I told you to throw away something important to you.”

Pike shook his head. “That’s not all of it.”

“Then what?” the ranger’s thick charcoal brows furrowed.

“I showed you my stones. And you rejected them quite thoroughly. Have … have a think about what I said about them, alright?” he said, patting the young man on the face and continuing on the path.

Thunderstorm stood in the path, watching after the thief, paying attention to the way the tip of his tail flicked as he walked. He thought about what Pike had said about the rocks. And thought. And thought.

And shrugged.

Maybe it would come to him later.

Maybe the true rocks were the ones in the smitten boy’s head.

***

“I can’t believe you rolled so poorly that ‘challenge Pike to combat for being a ridiculous little shit over rocks’ became ‘compassionate, loving speech as you cradled him in your arms.’” Pidge laughed.

Both Lance and Keith were sinking in their seats, faces paling and looking quite sick.

“I can’t believe I showed him my rock collection last time without reading up on the catto cultural significance in my backstory,” Lance said, stricken. “I just thought ‘ohhh I come with pretty shiny rocks.’”

“I can’t believe Romelle made me monologue for rolling a one,” Keith grumbled, ears red and expression that of a man regretting life.

“You didn’t have to go that hard, Thunder,” Romelle said, primly.

“Your character is such a dumbass, mullet. Here Pike is, practically baring his soul, and your perception count is so negative you just didn’t get it. Classic Keith.”

“Hey!”

“Also seven mystical orbs? Cursed jewellery? What, are you copy-pasting motivation from anime and fantasy cinema now huh? The sheer lack of creativity,” he said, snootily.

“I happen to like Lord of the Rings and Dragon Ball,” Keith said through gritted teeth.

“Right, just for that Pike’s going to go to bed and take his ears and tail off. For you see he’s just an elf who thinks he’s a cat on all levels but physical.”

“That’s just creepy.”

"It's also not true. I am a catto. But that got your attention, didn't it."

Romelle interrupted before the two could buttheads. “And so Meklavar, Block and the singularly competent Mystical Archer had stormed the dungeons of a keep and returned a treasured family heirloom attached to an unwanted-and-useless-but-nevertheless-rescued cousin to the queen of the nymphs, while Thunderstorm Darkness and Pike lePurrer de ToeBeans were stumbling upon conflict after conflict on the mountains.”

**

Flumphs were annoying creatures. Flying spaghetti monsters. Relatively low HP. But they travelled in packs. A whole restaurants worth. And the sound they made was onomatopoeic and made Thunderstorm cringe at every squelch. But they made a good team. Fought the ones in their path back. Only—

He kept getting distracted by the wild grin on Pike’s face. The hardened powerful lines of his body in action. And kept rolling low numbers. He’d swing over the spaghetti monsters, & they’d whip him with their tentacles. They didn’t cause much damage, but a roll of one saw him impaling his knife through his foot. His yowl caused Pike to go into a frenzy, taking out the remaining Flumphs with his throwing knives as he dashed to his side.

“You idiot,” Pike muttered, born of concern, ripping off some of his cloak with his sharp teeth. He wrapped a tight bandage around Thunder’s foot after cleaning the wound out, working diligently and quietly. Thunderstorm watched him work with wide eyes, uncomplaining. He couldn’t take his eyes off the concern and love clear on his companion’s face.

**

“Concern and love!?”

“My city now,” Romelle deadpanned.

**

This was their mistake. Not watching the surroundings, they did not see the creature of darkness lurking in the shadows, drawn on by the promise of a delicious pasta feast after the massacre. Glowing yellow eyes watched the pair closely, before the shifter beast struck.

**

“KOSMO!”

Keith was up and out of his chair as his wolf let itself into the room and ran off with the little figure on the board representing Pike. Kosmo wagged his tail, lowering his front legs onto the ground in a crouch. The little wooden pike jutted out of his mouth like a cat-shaped cigar.

“Kosmo. Drop it,” Keith demanded, pointing to the ground.

Kosmo stared at him blankly.

“Kosmo. Be a good boy. Drop.”

He fell to the ground in play but did not release the figure.

Keith lunged. Kosmo teleported away, prancing when he was physically back. Keith chased after him, but alas, he just exhausted himself. Every time, Kosmo would teleport away.

“Does, does this mean Pike is,” Lance gulped, remembering Shiro and the mice. “Dead? I loved him as a character. Such a scamp.”

“He’s not dead,” Romelle soothed. “The shifter beast has him by the scruff of the neck, carrying him like a cub. Kosmo only rolled a 3, that wasn’t enough to kill.”

“So I can roll to get him back?” Keith said, rolling up his sleeves.

**

Pike sat, dangling from the wolf’s mouth from his hood. “So. Do you come here often?”

The wolf growled lowly. Pike could feel the motion of its teeth and voice through his cloak. He was trembling. Many of his pouches had fallen off and been pierced in the wolf’s scramble to grab him. He could see his precious stones, trickling behind him.

“Where are we going though? Do you know the mountains well?” Pike froze. “You’re not taking me back to your lair to feed me to your children, are you?”

At this, the dog whimpered.

“No family, huh?” Pike said with sympathy. “I know a guy whose just the same. I think you’d like him.” Pike glanced back over his shoulder in the hope of glimpsing him. He knew it was useless. The Shifter wolf had teleported away. Pike could only imagine the torment his companion must have been going through. A ranger, losing a scent and track? He wouldn’t be able to live with the shame.

**

It wasn’t the shame Thunder was unable to live with, his hands smashing against boulders as he struggled to control himself. Shards of rock sprayed off.

It was his heart.

**

“How do you keep rolling better than me and Kosmo?” Keith asked Lance, as he rolled another consecutive twenty to keep himself alive and outside of the wolf’s mouth. It was incredible, really. Persuasion and good rolls were negating his negative four animal handling skills (well, it was negative three, but cattos always had an additional negative one with canines).

Lance rolled another twenty with a flourish. “Sometimes I’m just a little lucky.”

**

“Do you like turkey? I kept some for later from my last hunt,” Pike said, taking a whole roast out of his items stock. He had managed to convince the wolf to let him ride on his back after complaining of vertigo. This way, he could also give him the best scratch behind the ear, which made his tail and eyes twitch with glee as they walked. “And by hunt I mean I pinched it from a windowsill leaving town. Cat-like tread and all.”

The wolf “arrroe”-d with glee, nomming down on the bird.

“That’s a good boy,” Pike soothed, his hands practically getting lost in thick fur. Upon making contact with a bit of skin on the wolf’s neck, the shifter stopped walking and growled, cold yellow serpentine sclera looking back at him with anger.

**

“Shit, shit Pike’s really going to die,” Lance mumbled as Kosmo rolled a thirteen to eat. Lance needed to counter with at least a sixteen, or he was toast.

Twenty. Phew.

**

“How’d you get this, boy?” Pike gasped, parting the fur to take a look at the puckered and scarred flesh. “Did … did someone try to chain you up in their yard? Collar you? Poor little man.”

He checked his remaining pouches and pockets for something that could soothe it. Some ointment maybe? A thread for stitching? Ahh! The healing potion glowed an earthy green, promising protection. “I have the perfect thing to make the hurt go away.”

**

Thunder stumbled down the path. His feet, usually so deft, were clumsy with emotion. He looked down to see what he’d tripped on. He’d recognise that polished quartz and amethyst everywhere. Pike—

He drew the rocks together and to his chest and wept.

Pike would never leave these behind. He rocked back and forth on the ground, fighting back the tears which still trickled down his dusty cheeks.

“What are you crying about, buddy?”

Thunder’s eyes widened and his head jolted up.

Pike was perched between the wolf’s shoulder blades, riding him like a noble steed as he waved down. “Been a bit scary, ay, but look! Made a new friend.”

He held up the empty jar of healing potion. “Wouldn’t have if not for this,” he said, poking out his barbed tongue.

“Kosmo, sit boy,” Pike said, as he slid down his back and ran to the ranger. “See? I can save myself through hoarding and my charming ways.” He cheekily smiled at his friend before his eyes widened at the muddy tear tracks on his face. “Holy shit, you were actually crying.”

“Of course I was,” Thunder choked. “I found your precious rocks,” he said, pressing them into Pike’s chest. “But they had no importance to me without you.”

Pike rolled the rocks between his fingers. “Oh that … that must have been scary to find these without me, huh?” He pocketed them so he had his hands free to rub the tears from Thunder’s face. His thumb lingered on his check as he stared into the ranger’s eyes. Those purple galaxy eyes— He laughed awkwardly to dispel the tension. “Ah man, my Queen and Tom are going to kill me. I lost all of the stones they gave me.”

“I … I can help you find new ones?”

Pike’s eyes widened. “You’d do that for me? Help me find ‘more stupid pebbles’?”

“Of course,” Thunderstorm said firmly. “They’re important to you.

**

“I demand a level of forgiveness roll,” Romelle said. “Now that Thunder has proven he respects Pike I feel a chance to level-up their friendship is in order.”

“Is…is that even a thing?”

“It is now.”

Lance grumbled. Because what the hell was a forgiveness roll and a friendship level-up. But he rolled anyway. A perfect twenty.

Quiznak.

Romelle smiled like a cat who got the cream. That did more than level up their friendship.

**

In-game, Pike kissed Thunder.


End file.
